ANGELS AMONGST US: Ardor In Amethyst 11.0
by Denigoddess2001
Summary: "Be careful what you wish for, you just may get it." -American Proverb.>>> A Gargoyle's curiosity gets the better of him when he comes across a mysterious amethyst bottle. What does he unleash when he opens it? Enjoy!! Read fiercely and well!


Saga: Angels Amongst Us  
Title: Ardor In Amethyst 11.0  
Rating: PG-13 (strong language)  
Characters: Timron of Clan Linoma, Daria - A Djinn, Wren Summers-Nightkind, Titania, Katoramet/Tiamat, Skylaris, Dominique, Demetrius, Lysander  
  
Disclaimer: Gargoyles don't belong to me. They belong to Disney. The lyrics to "Genie In A Bottle" belong to the writers of the song...not me. No infringement intended. All original characters belong to their Deity, Denigoddess2001.  
  
  
Summary: A Gargoyle gets more than he wished for when he opens a mysterious bottle.  
  
"Genie In A Bottle" as sung by Christina Aguilera  
  
I feel like I've been locked up tight  
for a century of lonely nights  
Waiting for someone to release me  
You're licking your lips  
And blowing kisses my way  
But that don't mean I'm gonna give it away  
Baby. Baby. baby (Baby ,baby, baby)  
  
[Bridge:]  
Ooh (my body is saying let's go)  
Ooh (but my heart is saying no)  
  
[Chorus:]  
If you wanna be with me  
Baby there's a price to pay  
I'm a genie in a bottle  
You gotta rub me the right way  
If you wanna be with me  
I can make your wish come true  
You gotta make a big impression  
I gotta like what you do  
  
I'm a genie in a bottle baby  
You Gotta rub me the right way honey  
I'm a genie in a bottle baby  
Come, come, come on and let me out"  
  
  
PROLOGUE  
  
  
8th Century B.C.E.  
From the Tome Of Tacitus...  
  
I have walked amongst the Persians of Sardis and have heard their tales of Agathos Daemons. Those are helpful spirits with humanity's best intentions at heart. Yet, upon their tongues fall hushed whispers of a heartfelt tragedy of when Daemons invoke the anger of their rulers. The tale teaches the price exacted for arrogance and vanity.  
  
It is said that our beloved Goddess had a daughter during the last days of Babylon. When she walked through the streets of Babylon with her beloved daughter, all who saw the regal deity and her child stared at the young one's luminous eyes and curly ringlets that were her crowning glory. It became the tales of legend that Skylaris' daughter was most beautiful of all the goddess' children.  
  
Her daughter became a woman renowned for her effervescent charm and celestial beauty. When the young woman came of age, she found her heart set upon a young prince named Oberon. Alas, another maiden of the Seelie Court also set her cap for the dashing young monarch. Titania, daughter of Phoebe, and Daria, daughter of Skylaris fought fiercely and well for the love of Mab's son.  
  
Oberon became enchanted with the flaxen beauty of Titania and made her his princess. Upon hearing this news, Daria wept violently for several hours at the Seelie Court. When her mother attempted to comfort her, Daria screamed in vexed protest. "How could he marry that harridan? Her skin is the color of rotting fish and her hair is limper than the water lilies of the Euphrates. Her voice has all the allure of a sandstorm. She is pale and pallid while I have the dark beauty of the Duende."  
  
"Daughter, still your tongue." He beloved mother chided her. "Titania is no longer a rival for your heart's desire, but your queen. For you to speak of her will insure her wrath and bring you nothing but sorrow."  
  
"You speak rightly, Aunt." Titania's voice filled the air. She stood before Daria in a blinding maelstrom of feminine fury. She pointed at the young Fae and her brows furrowed in anger. "You have offended me, Daria, with your bitterness and arrogance. Now, you will pay the price."  
  
"You have Oberon and you are his queen." She retorted. "You have won."  
  
"You captured My Lord's heart for a time and that is something that will never happen again." Titania clicked her tongue. "You've insulted me and you will learn humility."  
  
A great battle ensued between the two strong, powerful Fae. For many days, they blasted the world with orbs of Magick and deadly spells that wreaked havoc in the world. All the Seelie Court watched in terse anticipation of the Outcome. Finally, in desperation, Titania sought the advice of the treacherous dragon named Katoramet (known as Tiamat to the Children of Gaia.) Titania and the dragoness came to an agreement. Katoramet would be given free reign in the Abyss without interference from the Fae in exchange for an irrefutable way to humble and chastise Daria. The dark dragon gave Titania an amethyst flask inscribed with Draconic runes and script, far more ancient than the mother tongue of the Fae.  
  
She taught Titania the profane words that would forever altar Daria's existence. With great satisfaction, Titania took the flask and planned her solution for the vexing Fae that vied for Oberon's heart. The young queen again engaged Daria in battle and when the young Fae was weakened, Titania uttered the profane Draconic incantation. Its words are so horrible that I dare not write them down lest another victim fall prey to Katoramet's malevolent enchantment.  
  
"Of Vanity and conceit are you composed  
And vanquished heart it is supposed.  
  
Your words are bitter and full of scorn  
Because of your vainglory worn.  
  
You have committed treason against your queen  
And her honor you have viciously demeaned.  
  
The price exacted for your vanity's crime  
Shall outlast the longest reaches of time.  
  
Within this flask shall you be bound within  
No longer Fae but forever Djinn.  
  
Serving the whims of those who are full of conceit  
Let you find humility within your defeat.  
  
Let your vanity hold you longer than time  
And confine you within the bottle's paradigm.  
  
And be forever bound in your new home  
And let love bring you a heart of stone.  
  
When rocks can love and speak of it sweetly  
Then will the spell come undone and set you free."  
  
The ancient legend says that whosoever comes across the amethyst flash shall be granted three wishes by the Djinn within the bottle. It is also a hard lesson for those of the Fae who wish not to incur their Queen's wrath. It is whispered amongst the Seelie Court that Oberon dare not speak Daria's name for fear of Titania's ire. Fables tell of Skylaris flying through the lands of Babylon and Persia searching for a way to free her lost daughter. Because of the spell cast, Skylaris forbid her people and follower ever to speak her native tongue. To this day, any who speak Draconic invoke the fury of the Dragon Goddess.  
  
*****************  
  
"Great souls have wills; feeble ones have only wishes."   
Chinese Proverb  
  
February 25, 2006  
  
Timron soared through the frigid mid-February skies that surrounded his adopted home of Linoma. He watched as Demetrius angled to his left and followed suit. Dominique brought up the rear and veered underneath them so that the trio formed a tight, triangular flying formation. The Crimson Gargoyle watched as Demetrius deftly landed on the flat room of the building he cloaked his wings and crouch low to the surface. He motioned silently for the other two to join him.  
  
Timron slowly made his way to the forefront of the formation. He heard the commotion in front of the building. A young woman was cornered in a darkened area of the parking lot. The smell of her terror and fright cut sharply through the winter air. Three pairs of observing eyes glowed fiercely with primal protective instinct: two burned with argent fire while crimson flame joined them. Demetrius silently motioned that they other two circled and flanked the group of men from behind. The Crimson Warrior nodded in compliance while Dominique simply took action.  
  
Timron landed soundlessly in front of the nightclub. He glanced briefly at the neon sign that flashed "Athenaeum." He had heard the Sanguine, Tina, speak of this place and her brief overnight stay at this place she called a "nightclub." He had never heard of such a word, but he was fast learning the ways of this strange Human world. He banished absent thoughts from his head and returned his attention to the young woman.  
  
"Three of us and four of them." Dominique drawled as she studied the four men sounding the woman. "Not much of a challenge, but it will have to do."  
  
"Dominique..." Demetrius' resounding voice was barely audible to human ears. He cloaked his wings about him and held a talon to his lips. "Save such remarks for later."  
  
"Please, don't hurt me." The Human's quavering voice was muffled by the cold air and snow surrounding her. She thrust her purse forward. "Look, there are fifty dollars and a couple of credit cards in the purse. Take it and go."  
  
"We don't want your purse, lady." One of the thugs leered. He wasn't all that tall, but his wiry frame indicated that he was quick and agile. "We just wanna see your underwear."  
  
"My underwear?" She managed to ask through flowing tears of terror. "I don't understand."  
  
"Yeah, I wanna see what they look like off ya." The scruffy blond walked forward and playfully lifted the hem of her skirt. The young lady skittered backwards and slapped at him. The leer on his face left no doubt what he had on his mind.  
  
There was no mistaking the blackguard's intent. Seething fury erupted in the form of a strident roar. Timron saw Demetrius' signal and he launched his attack. He seized the scruffy blond thug by the mid section and both went rolling head over tail on the ice-covered asphalt. Timron found himself astride the deviant. The quiet poet became ardent protector as his eyes blazed with argent fire.  
  
"It's time you learned your manners." Timron's quiet voice carried with it an ominous snarl. "You treat the lady with the proper respect."  
  
Dominique's agile tail swept in a wide, graceful arc low to the ground and tripped two of the thug's accomplices so they fell resoundedly on their backs. Demetrius swept down from on high and effortlessly scooped the frightened young woman into strong, waiting arms. She cowered and buried her head in his chest. The fourth hooligan saw that the odds suddenly weren't in his favor and chose a speedy retreat as his option.  
  
The one beneath Timron looked at him and said through chattering teeth. "Who the hell are you? WHAT the fuck are you?!"  
  
A mischievous streak burst within the young Sire. His eyes gleamed brightly and a flowing mane of ebony hair fell about the warrior's shoulders. His fangs shone white in the snow and moonlight. "I am the Lord of the Abyss and I am here to take you to Hell."  
  
The thug made a muffled groan. His eyes rolled backwards and he gave a small shudder. His head fell with a rough thud against the ice. Timron felt a warm wetness beneath and saw a growing wet stain spreading throughout the man's crotch. The Crimson Sage cringed and abruptly removed himself from the ruffian. He unceremoniously piled him with the others in the middle of the parking lot.  
  
"I see that you've taken quite a liking to our humble establishment." A voice came from the Darkness. Timron and the others turned to see a pale human staring at them. He was a man of middle years with short graying hair reminiscent of a military style popular amongst Humans. His eyes were pale and seemingly amber for a few seconds. Timron shook his head to clear his vision and looked again: now the man's eyes were a cold, emotionless blue. He thought it odd that the man's brows were painted like those of woman but pushed the thought aside.  
  
"Lysander." Demetrius cloaked his wings and bowed. "Well met."  
  
"Well met. I see you have an entire entourage in tow. I have met Dominique. Yet, who is the fine warrior that is at your side that helped subdue these young men?" Lysander carefully studied the trio standing before him.   
  
"This is Timron." Demetrius motioned to the Scarlet Sage. "He is a member of our clan."  
  
Lysander's eyes traveled the entire length of his body. He seemed to drink in the young buck's broad shoulder and statuesque form. His eyes locked with the vibrant blue-green eyes of the warrior. The Vampire raised a querying brow in either admiration or amusement, Timron wasn't certain. He only knew he didn't like it. "It's a pleasure."  
  
"The same." Was the Gargoyle's stiff, but appropriate, reply. He set every protective instinct of Timron's into full battle mode. There was something about this strange Human that set the Crimson Warrior on edge. He smelled of blood and death.  
  
"I think our people can handle it from here, Demetrius." Lysander motioned to the cherry and blue lights flashing in the distance. "You may wish to depart post haste."  
  
"Agreed." He nodded curtly. "We take our leave of you, Sir."  
  
Timron heard a clink of something against the asphalt. He looked down and noticed that something had rolled in front of his taloned feet. He looked down and saw a bottle lying there in stark contrast to the ice. Gingerly he picked it up and examined it. He held it out to Lysander. "I think you dropped this."   
  
The pale man clad in dark velvet took the flask in hand. He held it in the light and examined it. It was a bottle that refracted the streetlight from every angle. "It isn't mine."  
  
"It may have belonged to one of these blackguards." Timron cocked his head in Gargoyle fashion and studied the bottle. It was a dark violet in color much like the color from the crayola box.   
  
He held the bottle in offering to the Endless One. Lysander held it out for further inspection. "Hmm...intriguing. I haven't seen one of these in quite some time."  
  
"What is it?" Timron seemed fascinated.  
  
"Take it, it's of no value to me." He thrust it into the hands of the Gargoyle. The Sycophant looked over his shoulder as three police cruisers pulled into the parking lot. "We will talk another time. Think of it as a reward earned. But now, go! The police are here and explaining your presence would place the Athenaeum in a precarious position."  
  
Timron unfurled his platinum wings and without another thought tucked the violet bottle inside the belt of his loincloth. His talons dug into the white stucco wall hidden from view of the police. He effortlessly scaled the building and joined the others on the roof. Three defenders of the night caught the air currents and made their departure as the first police officer stepped out of the cruiser.  
  
*************  
  
The trio completed the rest of their patrol. They managed to stop a mugging and prevent a pedestrian from being a car-accident victim. Even while they were completing control, Timron's thoughts wandered to the strange violet bottle tucked securely within the belt of his loincloth. He wanted nothing more than to complete patrol and return to Summerlands so that he could further examine the strange carafe.  
  
The trio returned without further incident to their beloved haven. Timron cloaked scarlet-strutted platinum wings about him and hurried without a word to his private chambers. His tail lashed in heady anticipation of studying the exotic flask tucked in his loincloth. Dominique passed him in the hall on her way to MacBeth's chamber and she cast the crimson Gargoyle a strange glance.  
  
"Timron, we're getting together for some singing down in the recreation room. Bring your guitar and join us, why don't you?"  
  
"Later, Sister." He gave her a brief smile. "I have some other things that I need to attend to first. Go ahead and start without me."  
  
"I guess we'll be sing a capella." She shrugged wistfully. She gave her clan mate an imploring look. "Isn't there anything I can do to change your mind?"  
  
"Not tonight." He gave her an apologetic smile. A knowing wink accompanied that grin. "Give MacBeth my regards."   
  
"Certainly." She thumped the teasing Gargoyle playfully with her tail. "Behave."  
  
"Always, My Lady."   
  
Timron stepped inside his private chamber and sat. He had never seen the need for a room of his own, but life in Linoma these past few weeks had changed him. Since his arrival, he found that he had an insatiable desire to learn all about the Human's world. He found that it held a diverse array of music. Demetrius had taught him how to use a marvelous Magick called "the computer." From there, Timron had discovered a magickal viewing science called the "Internet." It was far superior in reference materials to the Magus' library.   
  
With the weekly stipend paid to him by Wren as 'security' for Summerlands, he had earned enough to buy a modern stringed instrument called a guitar. Lessons and sheet music provided with the guitar were all the Gargoyle needed to learn the instrument. Music had become his passion in this strange, bizarre world. How he missed his beloved Avalon and the simplicity of life on Caledon. Still, there was something to be learned from every experience.  
  
[Now, what am I going to learn about this bottle?] He mused. It caught his eye because of its rich deep hue. He noticed that it was also covered in a thick layer of dust in areas. He took it to the bathroom sink and carefully washed away the soot and dirt. He gently dried it in one of the hand towels hanging on the wall. He sat mysterious cruet on the antique oak table he had purchased over the Internet. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, and simply stared at the bottle.  
  
The bottle was about a foot in height and approximately eight inches in diameter at the base. The body of the bottle narrowed into a tapered neck at the tip. The bottle's exterior was a vivid, vibrant violet when held in the light. It was carved with intricate designs and glyphs that he couldn't recognize. He ran his talons lightly along the frosted surface. He took a long deep breath and chose to toss concern aside. He saw the cork embedded deeply into the opening.  
  
"Breathtaking." He again lightly tapped the bottle with one sharp crimson talon. A chime of crystal filled the room followed by a resounding hum. One brow ridge rose in interest. He cocked his head in Gargoyle fashion and picked up the bottle for closer examination. He held it only a few inches away from searching eyes and stared through the faceted surface.  
  
"There's something inside there!" He saw a dark swirling motion within the bottle. Excitement grew as he hovered on the precipice of discovery. The tip of a crimson talon embedded itself in the cork and gave a strong pull. There was a POP as the cork shot free from the bottle and ricocheted across the room like a stray bullet. The single fading chime increased in volume and a thousand tinkling chimes joined it. The resounding hum of harmony and resonance followed the exotic melody and filled the room.   
  
The bottle fell from the antique oak table and rolled onto the hardwood floor. It landed with that frightening sound of glass against a hard surface. Timron's tail wrapped around the bottle and he prayed to the Goddess that it hadn't cracked or broken. He blew an audible sigh of relief when his frenzied inspection revealed that it remained unharmed and intact. Then, he saw the wisp of dark smoke drift from the bottle.  
  
"By the Dragon!" He whispered. "What kind of Magick is this?"  
  
The delicate tuft of smoke became a thick column dancing in midair and darkened to a rich heliotrope. It became forceful with the strength of a geyser as it lengthened to almost Timron's height of seven feet. It widened so that it was the width of his shoulders and moved across the room like a cyclone. It settled a few feet from him and began dissipating. The sweet scent of vanilla and lilacs filled the small chamber.  
  
Timron stood there transfixed by the spellbinding vision occurring before him. The smoke drifted away and there kneeling before him was a creature on hand and knee. The creature slowly raised its head and revealed that it wasn't quite human. Dark eyes black as midnight peered up at him. They were framed by delicately arched brows and veiled in thick, black lashes. She raised her head a little more and revealed a crowning glory of rich chocolate and burgundy ringlets. He noticed that her ears held delicate points rather than gently rounded contours.  
  
"Who in the Dragon's flame are you? Menash Kah!" Timron swore a stream of Gaelic and DeMahri curses. His eyes brightened in anticipation of some attack. He had seen the treachery that Fae such as Selene wreaked. He was nobody's fool a second time.  
  
He watched in fascination and confusion as the strange entity knelt and bowed before him several times. Hey luminous eyes remained on the floor. Her voice sounded rushed and terrified to his Gargoyle ear. Timron didn't understand a word that the woman spoke. "Stay there! I can't understand you. I'll be right back."  
  
Timron galloped from his room on all fours until he stood before the door of Wren and Demetrius' bedchamber. He quickly cloaked his wings and rose to his feet. He rapped loud and insistently on the thick oak door. "Wren, I need your help! Open up!"  
  
He heard a muffled 'coming' echo through the heavy wood that separated them. He remembered to breathe when he heard the turn of the knob. A very drowsy and groggy Wren stood before him in her pink flannel nightgown and her tail drooping. "Yes, Timron?"  
  
"There's a strange creature in my room speaking in a language I can't understand." His words came out in a vivid rush. "While on patrol, I found a bottle on the ground and I brought back here. I thought it was breathtaking and I opened it and lehl'rahdeim! There was a puff of smoke and it changed into a woman before my eyes."  
  
"Did you eat too much Hagen Daaz again?" She looked at the crimson warrior as though he were stark raving mad. "You know that it causes you to have strange dreams in stone sleep."  
  
"No!" His frustration mounted. He indefatigably grabbed her hand. "I can't understand what she's saying. Please, Wren. Come with me! I think you'll be able to tell me."  
  
"Fine." The grouchy Nightkind didn't appreciate being drug out of bed after falling into a deep, comfortable sleep. "Lead the way."  
  
They returned to his room and found the mysterious creature still kneeling on the floor. Wren cast Timron a wary glance. He tentative kneeled before the strange woman and tapped her lightly on the shoulder with the tip of his tail. She sat up slightly from her kneeling position and briefly met his gaze. She murmured words that he didn't understand and they she fell on her face at his feet.  
  
Wren leaned forward and rested her face on steepled hand as the woman spoke. She nodded slowly and closed her eyes as if to imbibe the words. The young Fae started mumbling something and her words grew louder with each sentence. The lavender lady kneeling on the floor rose sat on her haunches and studied Wren. Timron noticed that Wren addressed the woman and she nodded enthusiastically. They exchanged a few sentences.  
  
The raven-haired lady turned to Timron and began speaking. Her voice carried a rather sultry tone and a hint of alto. He shrugged helplessly. "I'm sorry. I don't understand what you're saying."  
  
"Allow me to translate." Wren offered. As the woman spoke, the Fae echoed her words. "She says, 'Her name's Daria. And she is the...Timron, the word doesn't quite translate...I think she said genie...of the bottle. Anyway, she thanks you from saving her from her cruel master. She is now your slave and as reward, she will grant you three desires."  
  
"I wish I could understand her." He lamented.  
  
The young woman rose to her feet. She wore a veil of sheer purple silk over her face. She removed it to reveal full lips and high cheekbones. A coat of dark violet velvet fit every contour of her small form and it fell to her knees. She wore billowy harem pants of sheer lavender satin. She nodded mutely and brought her palms together as if in prayer. She bowed her head so that her nose touched the tips of her finger and her elbows extended outwards. A melodious alto filled the room as a deep chant came from her lips. She opened her arms and raised her palms skywards.   
  
Timron noticed that her left had a deep violet mehendi design of a dragon and an eight-pointed star adorned her right. A bolt of brilliant blue electricity coursed between her two palms. It left her hands and immediately hit the crimson warrior with all of its energy. It left the Gargoyle gasping harshly on his knees as it shocked him. A look of regret crossed the strange woman's features and she rushed to his side.  
  
"O Great One, I meant no harm. Are you all right?" Her voice carried a slightly exotic lilt that the Gargoyle couldn't quite identify.  
  
"I'm ...fine." He assured her. He looked at her and noticed that her brown eyes occasionally held a faint amethyst glint. He blinked once and then realized that he understood her. "I can understand you."  
  
"Yes, O Great One." She quickly helped him to his feet. "You so desired it and I fulfilled that desire."  
  
"Incredible." He studied the woman before him. "Your name is Daria?"  
  
"Yes, O Great One." She bowed to him.  
  
"Please, don't call me 'O Great One.'"  
  
"Is that your next wish?" She asked.  
  
"No!" He exclaimed. "Not at all. I am asking you to call me Timron."  
  
"Tim-ron." The foreign name slowly crossed her lips. "Tim.....ron. Tim..ron. Timron."  
  
"If you folks don't need me anymore," Wren yawned. "I'm going back to bed."  
  
"Wait!" He gently grabbed Wren's forearm. "Don't leave me."  
  
"Don't worry, Timron. You've got everything under control. You'll be fine. I don't sense any animosity or danger from this one."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"Because..." Wren tapped her temple. "Magick knows Magick. Trust me...she's all right. Now, I need my beauty sleep. Go with the flow, Timmy. GOOD NIGHT."  
  
"Timron." Daria asked for his attention. "I don't mean harm to anyone. However, there are a few rules that I'm required to tell you about your three granted desires."  
  
"Desires?"  
  
"Wishes." She amended.   
  
"Please explain."  
  
"First of all, my powers can only work for you alone. That means you can't wish for world peace, end hunger, stop famine, or cure some plague epidemic. Secondly, I can't bring back the dead. I also can't make anyone fall in love with you. I can't kill anyone. I can make your wish come true as long as it doesn't harm anyone, including you."  
  
"Really?" Her words sounded very reminiscent of a Disney movie called "Aladdin" he had watched the other night with Tina.  
  
"Yes." Daria folded her hands behind her back. "You must formally state your desire in the form of a sentence starting with "I WISH." If I hear it, then I'm required to grant it. Misuse or abuse of the wish cancels it. You can't wish for more desires. And at the end of thirty days or your last granted wish, I have to leave you so that the next lucky person can find me."  
  
"I understand." He said softly. He looked into dark eyes and saw a regret there that he couldn't identify. "I'll be more careful with my wishes."  
  
"I already granted your first one." She explained. "You wished to understand me."  
  
"I know." He didn't know what else to say to her. Timron realized that she had spent a very long time in that bottle. "Are you hungry?"  
  
"Famished." She gave him a smile. He seemed rather surprised by her enthusiastic response. "While I'm in the bottle, I don't need to eat, drink or sleep. But, when I'm freed from it, I have to do all the things that regular ...er...people do."  
  
"Then, I need to take care of you." His soft words brought a warm look to her face. "That's what a good master does for his Genie."  
  
"I am NOT a Genie." She hissed. Timron turned to see Daria's eyes turn from brown to violet. He realized that his little Djinn had a temper. She seemed not to have lost her sense of humor during her enforced incarceration. "I am Djinn!"  
  
He led Daria to the kitchen. He recently learned from Demetrius how to make a sandwich. He began digging through the refrigerator for bread, luncheon meat, and cheese. He was amazed to see the Spirit of the bottle heading for the TV dinner. "Great. Weight Watchers meals!"  
  
"How do you know about them?" He stared at her stupefied as she placed the frozen entrée in the microwave. "I thought that you had been trapped in the bottle."  
  
"I had been." She rummaged through the refrigerator until she founded a can of diet Pepsi. "But, I get out from time to time. The guy you sat on was my former master. When you knocked him down, my bottle fell out of his inside coat pocket. So, I was free to be found and gain a new master. I've had four masters and mistresses this year alone."  
  
"Amazing." Timron almost whispered. "How long have you been living in a bottle?"  
  
"Hmmmm. Good Question." Daria began counting on her fingers. "Including this year, I've been a prisoner in that damned bottle for twelve centuries...give or take a decade."  
  
"What are you exactly? Are you ...Human?" He watched her intently as she popped open the can of diet soda. She shook her head vigorously in response to his questions. "You said you were a Djinn?"   
  
"More or less!" She laughed. "Some would say I'm a demigoddess, being the daughter of Skylaris. Some say that I'm a half-elf since my father was a Duende. Some consider me Draconic because Mother has scales and breathes fire. No, I'm a Djinn." She grimaced. "No thanks to Titania."  
  
"A Djinn." He looked at her as though she were quite daft.   
  
"What is a Djinn?" Timron shrugged. "How is it different from a Genie?"  
"Genies are related to the Fae. Djinn...well, we're another ball of wax. We're a group of the Fae known as "Agathos Daemon."   
  
"Helpful Spirits." He translated the Latin phrase.  
  
"You catch on fast." She was impressed by his acute awareness. "I wasn't born one. I was MADE one. I'm not some cute little creature that's named Barbara who's blond with bouncing boobs and blinks you wish into being. I'm not a blue comedian that has a ton of wisecracks. I'm a creature capable of wiping New York off the face of the map if I decide to with no more than a single word. I just can't do if a master wishes it." She told the Gargoyle with more than a strong dose of attitude.   
  
"But, I thought you said that our mother was Skylaris!" Timron became more confused with each passing moment. "How were you made a Djinn?"  
  
Daria gave him a lengthy explanation of how she came to be a Djinn in the Amethyst flask. Timron fought the urge to scream "TOO MUCH INFORMATION." Instead, he listened attentively and found himself fascinated by the strange, mythic tale of the young woman sitting across from him on his oaken table.  
  
"May I ask you a question?" Daria brought him from his contemplative reverie.  
  
"Go ahead." He mumbled. Timron needed time to assimilate the onslaught of information Daria had given him. "Please ask."  
  
"Are you a ...DeMahri?" She spoke the word as if it were a prayer.  
  
"DeMahri?" The word sounded familiar to Timron. He remembered from several discussions with Demetrius that DeMahri was the ancient word for Gargoyle. It also lent truth to the statements about her age. Fewer than ten people in the world knew the truth and origins of Gargoyles. "Yes, I am ...DeMahri."  
  
"I had heard legends about your kind but I never believed them until now." She gasped in awe and took a sip of her soda. "I played fast and loose with the rules by using my powers to roll my bottle in your direction."  
  
"That was your doing?"  
  
"Timron, there are always loopholes." She hungrily ingested more of the TV dinner. "There is nothing in my curse that says about how I acquire my new master. The spell doesn't forbid my tipping the odds in my favor when I can. Besides, I figured you couldn't be any worse than my last one."  
  
"Thank you..." He spoke warily. "I think."  
  
"I wanted to get away from my last master. He was just evil." She shuddered. "His desires...were dark. He wanted me to do things that were, well! Let's just say that the rules prevented me from granting them."  
  
"I don't think my desires are dark." He contemplated her words. Her last mastered sounded twisted. He didn't know quite what to make of the strange demigoddess eagerly sipping on her diet Pepsi. The microwave bell dinged and she removed her dinner from it. She eager consumed the meal's meager contents.  
  
"They don't seem to be." She took another bite of her Spaghetti Bolognese dinner. "I figured I'd have a better time with you. You looked a hell of a lot more interesting than that loser."  
  
"I don't know what else that I desire." That was the truth. The night's fantastic events had left Timron bemused in the aftermath. "Are you allowed just to talk?"  
  
"You mean, like now?" She shrugged. "Normal conversation?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Nothing says I can't. It's within the boundaries of the curse." She lightly tapped the bottle. "Some masters even name me."  
  
"They name you?"  
  
"Yeah, a few now and then think it's adorable. Some mean to be kind and think of me as a lost pet that performs cute tricks. I am NOT cute."  
  
He found her outrage to be....he shuddered at the word....adorable. Daria seemed a complex menagerie of mystery and accessibility, tragedy and wit. If nothing else, she certainly was an unforeseen addition to his already-hectic life. He had one month with this demigoddess before she vanished back into her bottle and waited to be found by her next master. Fate had been most unkind.  
  
She tapped the bottle lightly with one finger. "I've been called Genie, Samantha, Sabrina, Hecate, Spot, Mitzi.... You name it, I've been named it."  
  
"Daria is your real name?" He asked feeling compassion for her transient sense of identity.  
  
"For the most part... my real name is similar. But, I don't speak the best Draconic in the world." She mused. "Mother was a dragon in Elvin form when she had me. Yet, she couldn't resist giving me a name that I can barely pronounce."  
  
"I see." He said not understanding at all the concept of having a mother. He noticed the wistful look on her face when she mentioned her mother. He laid a hand on her shoulder. "Was her name Skylaris?"  
  
"Yes! Yes it was!" Amazement and trepidation crossed Daria's features. "How did you know?"  
  
"She is the goddess of my people." He explained. "Few of my kind follow her in these time, but a few of us still hold her dear in our hearts. She still resides on Avalon."  
  
"She's alive!?" Daria squeaked with excitement.   
  
"She's very much alive. She watches over us and guides our people." Timron's eyes fell to the floor. "I am a humble cleric in training hoping to become one of her chosen Oracles."  
  
"That's wonderful!" Daria's look of joy soon faded. "Whatever happened to Titania?"  
  
"She and Lord Oberon live on Avalon."  
  
"I've heard of Avalon, never been there." She slumped in her chair. "It was Mab's home at one time. I take it Mab was finally conquered."  
  
"I don't know much about Mab. I do know that Lord Oberon and Lady Titania are king and queen of the Fae."  
  
"So, Oberon finally kicked his mother's ass off the island." She sighed. "You're the first master in two thousand years that knew anything about them. I read some stuff by a guy named Shakespeare and then I found out it was just fiction."  
  
She saw the sadness dwelling in the Crimson Gargoyle's eyes. His wings drooped and his tail fell to the floor. [What do you know? He actually feels sorry for me?]  
  
"Can't anything be done?" He asked. "If the spell can be done then it can be undone."  
  
"You don't want to do that." Daria warned him. "If you go against Titania's will, she will kick some serious ass."  
  
Timron had heard the phrase in conversations from Tina. To kick ass meant to seek justice or to administer retribution for wrongs committed against an individual. He also knew Lady Titania well and found it difficult to believe that such a gracious sovereign would behave in a vengeful, vindictive manner. He knew that before anything else, this matter deserved careful investigation. It also aroused his Gargoyle curiosity.  
  
"Let me pray about the matter." He beseeched. "Does the goddess know what happened to you?"  
  
"If she did, she would have done something about it." Daria's features darkened as desolation filled her. "Mother never deserts family. She isn't like the Fae. She lives with them, but she's a dragon to the core. She just finds them interesting."  
  
"I see." He laid a taloned hand on her shoulder. He gave the young Djinn a small smile. "If we can do anything about this, we will."  
  
"Why? What's it to you?" She stared at him in disbelief. [Why would a master want to free his personal slave? What does he get out of it?]  
  
"Slavery is wrong, Daria." He stated firmly. His eyes gleamed bright silver for a moment and a growl rumbled within his chest. "If you're telling the truth, then you deserve a chance at redemption."  
  
The terse tone of his voice properly chastised the Djinn for her veiled accusations of personal gain. "Fine, but you're not going to get anywhere. I've been stuck in that bottle for almost two thousand years. I've gone over Titania's spell a thousand times. There is no loophole for it unless rocks fall in love and can sweetly speak of it."  
  
"What did you say?" His interest was intrigued. "When rocks can speak sweetly of love?"  
  
"Pretty much that's exactly what I said." She riposted. "My Draconic's rusty, but it's a pretty close translation of the words Titania spoke when she stuck me inside this damn thing."  
  
A scarlet talon gently lifted Daria's chine. Blue-green eyes warm as summer stared down at her. "I am sorry. If we can undo this, we'll do it."  
  
"I've tried everything. I've tried breaking the bottle. I've tried killing myself. I've tried using my powers, but nothing works." She shook her head. "I can't bring rocks to life and get them to talk about love. My powers don't work that way. It sucks, Timron."  
He found it ironic that such an ancient creature spoke in the common vulgarities of these modern times. He realized she must have acquired such habits from her human masters. If her story proved to be true, then he vowed to serve his Goddess and champion her daughter's cause. He looked through the kitchen window and found that the first hints of rose colored the dark Eastern horizon. "My Lady, I ask that I take my leave of you. It's almost sunrise and I would like to do a bit of research before I enter stone sleep."  
  
"Stone sleep?" She echoed in confusion.  
  
"Gargoyles turn to stone at sunrise." He pointed to the window. He looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. "I have about forty-five minutes before turning. I'd like to consult some of my books on the matter."  
  
"Not a problem." Daria quickly withdrew into herself. "I need to go back to my bottle anyway. By the way, what's a Gargoyle?"  
  
"Gargoyle is the current word for my people. It's another name for the DeMahri." He gave her a quick smile.  
  
For whatever type of creature he was, he seemed sensitive and compassionate, if not a bit naive. She found herself enjoying her talk with this master. He hadn't demanded that she grant any desire. He'd been more interested in discussing her past than aggrandizing his past deeds and prowess or increasing his wealth and status. Timron impressed Daria with his humble manner and compassionate ways. For what it was worth, she thought she might just enjoy the month she had with the Gargoyle before she moved onto her next master.  
  
"You seem like you're a true gentleman."  
  
"I try." He gave her a quirky grin.  
  
"I'm going to let you in on a secret. Think of it as a show of good faith." She leaned forward. "Can I trust you?"  
  
"One you know me, Daria, you'll never have reason to doubt me." He promised. He made an "x" with the tip of his tail over his heart.  
  
"If you just happen to mention that you like something or something would be nice to have, it's within my personal discretion to use my Magick to manifest it for you. It wouldn't count as one of your wishes." The words were out before she could stop herself. She stared at the Gargoyle. He cloaked his wings as he considered her words.  
  
[Okay, is he going to pretend to be my friend so that he gets more out of me? Or is he going to start dropping hints like mad to get more desires granted?] She considered the worst expectations.  
  
"I have high expectations and low needs." Timron answered. "Two desires granted will be more than enough."  
  
She drew back in surprise. That was not the answer she had been expecting. She didn't know what to anticipate from him, [But that sure as hell wasn't it!]  
  
This new master had been full of surprises so far. He didn't demand outrageous wishes to be granted immediately. Instead, he simply longed to talk with her. Daria marveled how he had shown concern for her welfare by asking if she needed food or drink. He dumbfounded the Djinn when he made the offer to help break the curse, futile though it was! A bubbling cheerfulness and burgeoning hope welled within the young Fae. She stood on her tiptoes to her fullest height and her small hands went on his broad shoulders. Velvet brown eyes briefly met a serene gaze of aquamarine as she impulsive pressed her lips to his. Timron stiffened.  
  
For a moment, time remained static. Daria suddenly became aware of suede skin beneath her fingertips and the brush of a brash belt buckle against her exposed skin. A flash fire coursed through her body in that instant of stillness. She felt his warmth against her and a rush of revelation frightened and thrilled her. For as strange of creature was this Gargoyle, she thought him to be a comely creature.  
  
Timron felt warm lips brush against his. Never before had he engaged in the human custom of kissing. Three things happened in a matter of seconds that confounded him. He noticed Daria's scent of lilacs and vanilla. Before that moment, no scent had filled the room as it did just then. His mind opened and he felt her thoughts and emotions flow into him. He heard her silent musings inside his mind and felt her genuine astonishment at her budding fascination regarding him. Soft warm curves draped in violet silk and amethyst velvet caressed his skin. They fit to him as well as air beneath his wings. The third revelation stunned him more than the others: he wanted to kiss her in return. Tail longed to wind around her waist and wings fought the temptation to embrace her.  
  
She hurriedly pulled away and looked at him with innocent eyes. "I think this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship. Have a good sleep. If you need me, I'll be inside my bottle."  
  
He remained stunned and speechless as she sauntered over to her bottle. She cast a glance at him over her shoulder. "By the way, Timron. Thanks for everything even if nothing comes of it. Pleasant dreams."  
  
"Pleasant dreams." He stood there almost mute by the frenzied turn of events. He watched Daria bring her palms together and utter a few words in what he surmised to be Persian. She became a thick, solid column of amethyst smoke and drifted into her bottle.  
  
Timron stood there for a few minutes and stared at the carafe sitting on the table. He then remembered to gather the cork that hid underneath the stove. He chose not to recork the bottle. He thought Daria might enjoy her temporary freedom. He carefully carried bottle from the table in his room and set it on the ledge of the window.   
  
He went to a leather-bound tome that he kept on the end table beside the bed. It was a recently printed copy of the Tome of Tacitus. He leafed through several pages until he found what he needed. "THE LEGEND OF DARIA" was written upon the pages of the tome. He read the passages and it came to him that she was the creature of legend. While she wasn't truly Fae, she was still a creature of great power and Magick.   
  
Timron saw the first rays of gold peaking over the horizon. He carefully restored the book to its place on the end table. [I think I'll sleep inside today.]  
  
He didn't feel like assuming the traditional stance of wings unfurled, talons curved and fangs gleaming. The Crimson Gargoyle simply knelt beside the ledge with platinum wings cloak around his broad shoulders. His eyes fell once more upon the bottle. He felt compelled to lean forward and press his lips against the glass much the same way that Daria had done to him. A quiet, gentle voice spoke words into the carved glass. "Pleasant Dreams, Daria. Until twilight descends, dream good dreams."  
  
The bright beams of morning shone through the east bay window. The crimson Gargoyle became like the mountain stone.  
  
*************  
  
Inside her bottle, Daria laid upon satin pillows and purple velvet cushions. She noticed how cautiously Timron handled the flask. She knew her instincts had been right about this master. Normally, she addressed her masters sarcastically as "O Great One" and they never knew the difference. She found that she meant those words with the strange creature named Timron.  
  
She heard caring words that wished her good dreams and then all went silent. Her heart fluttered at the thought that there was still some kindness left in the hearts of....well, he certainly wasn't a man. Daria also was wary of the fact that she thought that the winged creature resembled some of the more malevolent creatures from the Abyss. Stranger yet was her budding fascination for this DeMahri. She felt comfortable with her final observation: he had earned her respect with his kind ways and quiet honor. She closed her eyes and dreamt dreams of being free.  
  
TO BE CONTINUED....  
  
  
Author's Note: For further definitions of the following terms, please consult "An Introductory Course: Deniverse 101." It is currently posted at the Gargoyles Fans web site. (gargoyles-fans.org) 


End file.
